


Three Rules

by welcome2atlantis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Casual Sex, College, Kyoutani has a kohai, M/M, Minor slut shamming in the second chapter, Teammates to Lovers, Yahaba and Kentaru play on the same team still, the third chapter is just makeup sex tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcome2atlantis/pseuds/welcome2atlantis
Summary: Now in college, Kyoutani still finds himself stuck with Yahaba. Only thing that's changed is the Yahaba's finally out of the proverbial closet and instead of constantly fighting off the court now they sometime fall into bed together --which Kyoutani's very okay with. Only problem is Yahabas' set of three golden rules and Kyoutanis' tendency towards loyalty.





	1. Frustration

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've ever posted on AO3 so I have no idea how to format it so here's hoping I didn't fuck it up too bad!  
> Here's the first of two parts of this story. I was planning on a one-shot but it kinda exploded so I thought I'd split it in two. Oops.

Yahaba has three rules.

 

_ “I don’t do relationships” _

Kyoutani could get that one at least. He’d only sort of meet Yahabas’ parents once --when they’d made it to nationals in their third year-- and man, if Kyoutani thought Yahaba was an anal retentive, by-the-book control freak; it was nothing compared to his parents. So it made a sort of sense. He figures Yahabas’ parents wouldn’t react well if he brought a boy home instead of the expected girlfriend. Kyoutani doesn't know the exact extent of Yahabas’ family’s homophobia but he isn’t about to touch that issue with a ten foot pole.

Not to mention Yahaba doesn’t have much free time outside of volleyball practice and playing the perfect student his family no doubt expects. Kyoutani knows plenty of the guys on the team who struggle to balance school, volleyball, and girls. And none of them are acing every class (except organic chemistry, which Yahaba never shuts the fuck up about).

 

_ “I don’t kiss and tell” _

Yahaba’s a private person, he keeps his emotions in check and to himself. Not the type interested in sharing his sexual exploits. Which would have worked, theoretically, if the guys he slept with could keep their mouths shut too. They don’t. If he had to hear from another guy how good Yahaba is at giving head Kyoutani was going to put his head through a wall. As if sharing this information with Yahabas’ rival/teammate/occasional friend/whatever would win them another night in Yahabas’ bed. It didn’t.

 

_ “I don’t sleep with teammates” _

That rule mystifies Kyoutani. It makes sense of course. Yahaba doesn’t want to potentially impact their team negatively just because one of the under classmen on their team was bi-curious and pretty little Yahaba was the source of that curiosity. In fact, that rule seems to extend to every team in their conference. Kyoutani figures he doesn't want his personal life affecting the perception of their team.

However, the rule seemed pretty mute when Yahaba and he had started fucking halfway through their first year in university.

That rule had come into existence at the beginning of their second year. So maybe Kyoutani’s exempt based on the fact that --whatever it is they had going-- started before the rule was instated. 

 

He finally got around to bringing it up about a month after Yahaba had to shoot the poor underclass man down.

“What, haven’t you noticed?” Yahaba had scoffed as he worked on getting dressed again. “We fight on the court less and we synch better when we have sex. In this occasion sex with you only improves our teamwork.”

That made Kyoutani scowl at him from where he’d been laying on his bed, still naked. Yahaba’s back had been to him, but the bastard certainly knew he’d be glowering at him. Yahaba had made an annoying habit of getting into his head. Conversely though, Kyoutani now knew how to filter weird Yahaba politeness for what he really meant. 

“So what you’re saying is, we’re only fucking because it makes it easier for you to manage me.”

“Your words, not mine,” he’d replied primly, throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder and heading for the door. “See you at practice.”

 

There’s also the fact Kyoutani’s fairly certain he’s the only person Yahaba’s having regular sex with. Regular sex was too likely to lead to one-sided feelings. And feelings lead to wanting more than just physical intimacy, which would violate The Rules.

Even  _ if  _ there was someone else, he’s damn sure the other guy and Yahaba haven’t been hooking up for more than a few months. Kyoutani has been sleeping with Yahaba for over a year now, so he definitely won that competition. Which is where things get complicated.

The real problem: that Kyoutani takes pleasure in being the only or at least the longest standing person Yahaba’s been with. Kyoutani has, albit grudgingly, accepted he’s a bit possessive --even of friends and teammates-- but he and Yahaba aren’t exclusive. Hell, they don’t even like each other all that much. Kyoutani knows that sexual attraction had fuck all to do with how you feel about a person, and everything to do with how your dick feels. Aggravating as it was to admit, Yahaba definitely give his dick feelings. They might get along better than back in highschool but Koutani would be hesitant to call what they had friendship. It’s more like there’s so much unsolvable anger and frustration between them that the only catharsis they can find is by fucking eachother senseless. Which probably isn’t healthy but it works so Kyoutani’s willing to overlook that.

But then Kyoutani’s a fucking idiot and started paying attention to Yahaba. Too be fair, he has to. On the court he needs to learn to read his team and, most importantly, his setter. Where Yahaba would be, where the ball would go, even when he wasn’t in Kyoutani’s line of sight. And it’s hard to not watch someone when you’re balls deep inside them or they have their evil fucking mouth wrapped around your cock. A mouth that plagues his mind too often. Which isn’t even that bad because Kyoutani and everyone else with eyes will tell you that Yahaba’s beautiful. And anyone who’s been on the receiving end of Yahaba’s mouth knows it’s a sin and a marvel. 

It’s when it got beyond those things that his attention started getting problematic. Like noticing how soft Yahaba’s hair is, or how it changes from light brown in the summer to a whitish hue in the winter, like some kind of arctic fox. Or the way his eyes crinkle at the corners in a hidden laugh when he thinks something’s funny. The way Yahaba smiles at him --large and unrestrained, letting his control go for once-- when they win a particularly hard game. How plush his lips look, how good he smells. Earthy somehow, woody, but in a people kind of way? Kyoutani wasn’t sure when he’d developed a thing for people’s hands but god, did watching Yahaba’s hands do  _ things _ to him. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You don’t think this is…” Kyoutani trails off in the middle of the question that he’d been thinking over all week as he pushes inside Yahaba, breathing deeply through his nose instead of groaning at the tight, amazing heat around him. Yahaba has no such qualms and makes those panting, whining noises that Kyoutani loves “...This is kinda weird?” He manages to finish as his hips settled against Yahaba’s ass.

“What” Yahaba asks, looking over his shoulder from where he’s on his hands and knees. Kyoutani shouldn’t know that it’s his second favorite position; riding his partner being the first.

“This” he punctuates his question by pulling back before driving into Yahaba again. 

“Oh,” Yahaba says wickedly, after letting out a nearly pornagraphic moan “ _ This _ ” and Yahaba tightens around him. Kyoutani curses, closing his eyes, before leaning over Yahaba’s body and biting his shoulder in retaliation.

They’re both laying in bed a while later, catching their breath, when Yahaba finally answers him.

“It’s not weird,” he insists, stretching out on the bed like a cat. A few vertebrae in his back pop and he sighs happily. “It’s just sex Kyoutani-kun.”

“Right,” Kyoutani snorts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and tossing the used condom into the waste bin next to the bed “No strings, just orgazams. That ever work out for you before?” It’s a snide remark, they usually never acknowledge the fact Yahaba sleeps around. He hides his face from Yahaba’s scrutiny by collecting his clothes off the floor.

“You complaining about the two times I made you cum?” comes Yahabas’ taunt after a pause, voice light and seemingly unaffected by Kyoutani’s jab.

“You blowing me doesn’t count, cause you’re mouth is fucking evil.” He doesn't even think before saying it, the words just fall out of his mouth as he pulls his boxers and pants on. 

“Is that so,” Yahaba laughs playfully “What can I say, I’m good at everything I do.” 

Kyoutani turns to glare at him, but Yahaba just smiles mockingly at him from his comfortable sprawl on the bed. The smug bastard. 

“I think your shirt got lost somewhere in my living room.” Yahaba adds with false helpfulness. 

“Fuck you” Kyoutani growls as he turns and stomps out of the room. He’s being childish, but Yahaba seems to bring that out of him. 

“You already did!” Yahaba calls after him cheerfully. Kyoutani finds his shirt thrown over the couch, finishes dressing, and makes a swift exit.

 

He shouldn’t complain. It isn’t like Kyoutani’s interested in more. It’s just sex. Like Yahaba said. But God, if it isn’t the best sex of his life. And it only gets better with time, as if with each meeting of their bodies Yahaba learns some new method of driving Kyoutani even crazier the next time they fuck. It’s dangerous; some day Yahaba will completely unravel him. And there’s the lingering fear that Kyoutani isn’t enough, that he can’t compare to Yahaba and he’ll wake up someday and realize there are plenty of guys out there who’re much better than Kyoutani. Guys who’ll last longer, or who doesn’t hate swallowing his cum, or fuck harder, or doesn't fight with him whenever they aren’t having sex. 

 

* * *

 

 

A few weeks later Watari comes to visit from studying abroad in America. He bunks with Yahaba for the two weeks he’s staying in the area before heading to visit his parents.

“So, you and Shigeru?” Watari asks out of the blue one night when he joins the team for an after practice-match dinner, after Yahaba had excused himself to use the restroom. Kyoutani can only frown at him and try to will down a blush. It’s not working if the warmth of his ears is any sign.

“What about him?” he tries to growl out in his best intimidating voice, the one that makes the underclass men nearly piss themselves. Watari is, naturally, undeterred. He knows Kyoutani’s all bark and very little bite. 

“Aren’t you two, ya know…” he takes his pointer fingers and pushes them quickly together a few times “bumping uglies.”

Kyoutani knows he isn’t fooling Watari even as he sputters out denyles. Crap, how did he know? Had Yahaba told him? Or was it just obvious somehow?

“No way dude,” one of the upperclass men cuts off his minor freak out to to defend him, having obviously overheard “Yahaba-kun has strict rules about that sort of thing. He won’t date anyone in the conference.”

“You mean he doesn't date period.” Grumbles Ginji, the underclass man Yahaba had snubbed, “He’ll sleep with anyone who doesn’t play volleyball though.”

Kyoutani’s glad his teammates feel comfortable defending him, it means they aren’t as scared of him as Yahaba lead him to believe. But now Watari’s side eyeing him.

Shit, he totally knows.

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow Kyoutani makes it through the rest of Watari’s visit with out getting cornered by him for A Talk. He hadn’t been forced to sit through one of Watari’s talks since back in highschool. He didn’t miss them, that’s for sure. No yelling or threatening required; they had a way of turning someone into a puddle of guilt and confessions of their wrong doing  _ just _ through the power of Wataris’ patented Disappointment Voice.

Watari’s departure also means Yahaba basically drags Kyoutani into his room the next day to make up for the multiple weeks of going without.

Yahaba push him up against the wall as soon as he’s through the door and is on him in and instant, tugging Kyoutanis’ shit over his head. Yahaba makes a point of mauling him --pulling at his hair, raking his fingers down his arms, sucking bruising marks into his neck-- before tugging both Kyoutani’s pants and boxers off his hips, freeing his cock, and dropping to his knees

“Fuck, I missed your mouth” Kyoutani finds himself gasping as Yahaba takes him almost all the way in, running his fingers through Yahaba’s hair.  

Perhaps a little too honest, but god if it isn’t true. Sure, Kyoutani hasn’t been with that many other people, but none of them have come close to the mind-blowing perfection of Yahaba sucking him off. A mouth so good it makes him lose his damn mind and say things he shouldn’t even be thinking. Yahaba doesn't seem to notice his slip, just moans at the praise, relaxes his throat, and takes Kyoutani even deeper.

It doesn't take long after that. He never lasts long like this, especially when he can feel Yahaba watching through his lashes. It’s fine, it just means he’ll last longer when --after he’s taken his time fingering Yahaba open to the point where Yahaba threatens him with violence if he doesn't hurry up-- he fucks him long and hard, just the way Yahaba loves, until he’s a whimpering mess. Maybe, if he plays it just right, he can get Yahaba to come untouched.

Instead, after Yahaba wipes his mouth on his sleeve, he surges up and takes Kyoutani’s mouth in a fierce kiss. It’s a bit shocking, they don’t kiss all that often to be honest, and never after he’s just come in Yahaba’s mouth. It should probably be weird, tasting himself on Yahaba’s lips, and it’s not entirely pleasant, but the possessive side of him thrills in the fact that Yahaba tastes like him. Enough so that Kyoutani meets him with equal fervor, sucking on his tongue.  Hands find their way to Yahaba’s hips and haul him forward against one leg so he can feel the hot press of Yahaba’s cock through the fabric of his sweat pants against his hip. Yahaba moans appreciatively, hips rocking against him, as Kyoutani’s hands slip past the waistband of his sweats to grab at Yahaba’s ass.

“Oh god, yes,” gasps Yahaba breathlessly, head thrown back, fingers grasping at his shoulders hard, as Kyoutani takes control of Yahaba rutting against him, fingers kneading into his ass “Fuck, yeah, just like that. Come’n”

Kyoutani realizes Yahaba must be pent up if he’s already babbling like that just from blowing him and a little grinding. Maybe it’s not just him who has a short fuse today.

“You close already?” Kyoutani grunts as he increases the speed of Yahaba grinding against him “You gonna come in your pants?”

“Shut up” Yahaba pants, digging his nails into the meat of Kyoutani’s shoulders in retaliation.

“You missed this too didn’t you?”

“Obviously you ass.” Yahaba manages to gasp, voice a little shot from having Kyoutani’s cock down his throat,

That brings Kyoutani up short. 

Yahaba whines and squirms unhappily when Kyoutani stops suddenly. “Wha-” Yahaba starts, but Kyoutani cuts him off

“Are you serious?” He asks, pulling back to look Yahaba full in the face.

“Kyoutani, what the fuck,” Yahaba growls; breathless and angry and very turned on.

“You missed this?” He can’t quite wrap his mind around the idea. Yahaba missing him. Or at least missing having sex with him.

“We wouldn’t be doing this otherwise,” is Yahaba’s frustrated answer as he squirms against his leg again, trying to get friction on his cock. “Kyoutani, I swear to God, if you don’t- umph!”

He pulls Yahaba into another kiss and resumes rocking Yahaba against him until the the kiss turns into Yahaba just gasping wordlessly against his lips.

“That’s it” Kyoutani says in a gravelly whisper, pressing indulgent little kisses at the corner of Yahaba’s mouth, to his forehead, to his temple “Just like that. I’ve got you.”

Yahaba buries his face in his neck and lets out a broken whine as his hips stutter against Kyoutani’s body. Yahaba paints his hip with warmth as he comes, biting at Kyoutani’s neck so hard he knows he’s going to have one hell of a bruise. When Yahaba’s body finally goes slack against him, Kyoutani slips his hands out of Yahaba’s pants.

“Now I’m going to have to come up with some story as to why I have teeth marks on my neck.” Kyoutani says off-hand as he rubs a hand soothingly against Yahaba’s back. Yahaba, the bastard, runs his teeth over the now sensitive mark.

“You deserve it,” Yahaba informs him as he peels himself away. “For stopping part way through.”

Kyoutani grunts, but doesn’t deny it.

Yahaba walks to the couch and flops on it with a content sigh.

“I needed that,’ Yahaba sighs again, almost incomprehensible from where his face is buried in the couch cushion. Kyoutani knows the comment was just an off-hand thing, not seriously directed at him. That knowledge doesn’t stop the part of himself he tries to ignore from going all mushy at the mention of being able to make Yahaba feel good.

“What you really need is a shower and a change of pants.” Kyoutani points out as he pulls his own pants all the way back on and takes the chair across from Yahaba.

“You’re fault,” Yahaba says. “I’m hungry, do you want pizza?” 

Kyoutani frowns. Again, something they don’t really do. Something that isn’t a normal part of this arrangement they have.

“I guess.”

“I’ll eat whatever as long as it’s vegetarian.” Yahaba says, standing and making his way to the bathroom “You order and I’m going to take that shower you mentioned.”

He orders Yahaba a vegetarian combo and himself Hawaiian. Yahaba then spend the entire time they’re eating in his living room ragging on him for his taste in pizza.

“Honestly, pineapple? On pizza?” he gives a dramatic and very fake shudder. “The food of degenerate heathens.”

“Piss off pretty boy,” Kyoutani says defensively. “I paid for the pizza, the least you could do is shut up about it.”

“There’re plenty of boys out there who are dying to buy me pizza and listen to me complain about it.” Yahaba says blithely.

“Only if they get to fuck you after.”

“Who says you don’t get to.” Yahaba says with all slyness, moving from his seat to stand in front of Kyoutani. He takes the plate of pizza from Kyoutani’s hand and puts in on the coffee table before sliding smoothly into his lap, arms moving to wrap around his neck as he smiles smugly down from his perch.

“I was eating that,” Kyoutani complains even as he grips Yahaba’s thighs.

“Did you honestly think that would be enough?” He asks with a wicked smile. “I’d like to play with you a little longer Kyoutani-kun”


	2. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnd, three months later here it is. I wrote the entire thing, decided I hated it, deleted it, and rewrote it entirely. I'm still not totally happy, but at this point it is what it is and it's a lot better than the first attempt.

He’s groggy when he wakes up the next morning, back stinging slightly from the scratches Yahaba probably left. Again. It takes him a moment to process the weight on his chest. He’s stunned to find Yahaba there. For as long as he and Yahaba have been doing this neither of them has ever stayed the night. So waking up with an armful of Yahaba is a surreal experience for him. Yahaba’s head on his chest, hair just brushing the tip of his chin, arm splayed out across his stomach, legs tangled together. He likes it too much. Even if Yahaba is drooling on him a little. 

He’s jittery and nervous just laying in bed. Even staring at Yahaba’s horrendously cute bedhead isn’t enough to keep him still for too long. He carefully extracts himself from the bed. Yahaba rolls over with a groan before burying his face in a pillow and Kyoutani retreats to his kitchen to make breakfast.

by the time Yahaba wakes up Kyoutani’s finished with the rice and is almost done searing tuna. Still half asleep Yahaba shuffles into the kitchen. Kyoutani silently hands him a cup of coffee. Yahaba hums happily as he takes a sip and leans back against the counter next to Kyoutani. This should be weird, Kyoutani thinks, having Yahaba here in his kitchen after a night together. It not something they’ve done. Yet it feels almost natural.

“You know how I take my coffee.” Yahaba finally says after drinking half of it.

“I wouldn’t call it coffee anymore, not after all the sugar you like added.” Yahaba huffs, and god, he looks so good like this --sleep mussed, early morning light lighting up his messy hair, eyes still soft from sleep. Vulnerable in a way Kyoutani’s not used to. 

“The fish is starting to burn.” Yahaba points out, breaking him out of his trance. Kyoutani curses, trying to salvage their breakfast.

They eat in comfortable silence and when they’re done Yahaba cleans the dishes while Kyoutani grabs Yahaba’s newly clean sweats and boxers out of the dryer. Yahaba’s got class before him so he collects his stuff to head out, but before he leaves he walks up to Kyoutani and pulls him in for a kiss, slow and soft and lingering.

“See you soon” He murmurs, brushing his lips softly against Kyotani’s own. He’s left so dazed by the kiss he barely registers Yahaba closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t see Yahaba again for a month. Not alone at least. He sees him six days a week at practice. Kyoutani’s trying to decided if he’s willing to risk cornering Yahaba to ask him what the hell’s going on, what did he do wrong this time, when Yahaba walks into practice the next day, so covered in hickeys it looks like an octopus had a death grip on his neck. If Yahaba was trying to send a message, he hears it loud and clear. 

He throws himself fully into volleyball instead. If he works himself hard enough he won’t lay awake at night wondering what he did to push Yahaba away. He drills himself like crazy, and all his teammates seem impressed and slightly terrified of his new intensity. He makes a point of working with their back up setter, Takashiro, under the pretence of helping him gain confidence. Their captain agrees whole heartedly saying that training with him would be almost as good as a real game to teach about working under pressure. 

This goes on for a while. Both of them trying to ignore each other and somehow still managing to get into more arguments than before. Until one night Kyoutani’s phone rings and Yahaba’s name glares up at him from the screen.

He ignores it. And ignores it again when it rings a second time. The third time it rings Kyoutani’s about to throw his phone at the wall until he see’s it’s Takashiro’s name on the screen this time. He picks up the phone and instantly regrets it when he hears Yahaba’s voice on the line.

“You picked up,” Yahaba says. His voice muffled by the sound of music and bass in the background “I din’t think you would.”

“Why do you have Takashiros’ phone?”

“I- I wanned to talk to you. You woun’t pick up.” Yahaba replies and Kyoutani thinks it’s not just the music that’s a problem, but that Yahaba’s slurring.

“Are you  _ drunk _ ?” He asks, shocked and a little appalled at the idea. “Put Takashiro on the line right now.”

“No, no, don be angry. M’only a little tipsy, promise.” Kyoutani highly doubts that. The music in the back fades and Kyoutani can only assume he moved somewhere quieter “There’s something you should… I mean, I wanna tell you…”

“Spit it out already so I can go to bed”

“Kyou, do you wanna… want to have sex?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Kyoutani deadpans.

“Wait,” and because Kyoutani is still conditioned to, he listens. “I miss you, or I mean, I miss you fucking me. Don’t you? It’s just- feels so good Kyou, having you inside me.”

“Jesus,” Kyoutani swears. He drags his hand down his face, presses his palm into his eye. He should feel resentful. And he does --he’s pissed and bitter and hurt-- but god damn, he can feel himself getting hard just reacting to Yahaba’s words.  _ Pavlov’s hound _ he thinks.

Yahaba’s not done torturing him though, “I know how much you like my mouth. I could suck you off too. Let you fuck my face.”

“Where are you,” He grits out. Yahaba gives him the address and it's within walking distance of his place. He's out the door quickly. He has no intention of actually taking Yahaba up on his offer, tempting as it is. But he also doesn't want to leave Yahaba to his own drunken devices. Part of him worries about some strange guy picking Yahaba up, taking advantage of him.

He walks faster.

Yahaba’s leaning against Takashiro out front. A bit of tension in his chest uncoils, knowing that Takashiro would have been keeping a strict eye on his senpai. 

“I called an Uber.” Takashiro tells him as he transfers Yahaba into Kyoutani’s arms. He stiffens as Yahaba all but melts again him. Takashiro disappears back into the party, leaving the two of them standing together. Kyoutani’s distantly grateful that at least Yahaba’s too out of it to keep up with the dirty talk.

The Uber arrives and Kyoutani loads Yahaba into it. The ride’s uncomfortable for him, but at least it’s a short trip. He hauls Yahaba out with a terse thank you to the driver and manhandles Yahaba up the stair to his apartment because he doesn't trust the drunk idiot to be able to find his keys and open the door on his own. He gets Yahaba settled on his couch and turns to leave but before he can Yahaba’s yanking and his wrist, wobbling back up on his feet and trying to kiss him.

“No,” Kyoutani growls, holding Yahaba at arms length. “You’re getting your ass in bed and then I’m leaving.

Yahaba looks at him like he’d just punched him in the gut. “I thought you wanted me.”

“It’s  _ you _ who doesn't want  _ me _ .” It hurts to say it outloud. Makes it feel real even as Yahaba’s giving him that stupid doe-eyed look.

“I didn’t mean for- I messed up. I thought. I thought that’s all I wanted --but then. Then you were you and I should have known-” Yahaba stops mid ramble, his face going pale.

“Yahaba?”

“I think M’ gonna puke.”

“Right,” Kyoutani sighs. 

After Yahaba’s done losing the contents of his stomach Kyoutani brings him a glass of water, pulls him up off the bathroom floor and gets him into bed.

“Kyou,” Yahaba mumbles as Kyoutani pulls the covers over him, and feels bone tired, he doesn’t know how much more of this he can handle. 

“What.”

“M’ sorry.” Kyoutani doesn't know what to say to that. So he tell Yahaba to go to sleep and leaves as soon as Yahaba passes out.

 

* * *

 

 

“Kyoutani, go sit down,” Yahaba says as he runs to retrieve the ball Kyoutani had just spiked out of bounds “You’re pushing it again.”

“You’re not my damn minder,” he growls back, whipping sweat out of his eyes on the sleeve of his practice jersey. He looks up and Yahaba has his blank face on. It makes Kyoutani nervous, always has. 

“Don’t be an idiot, I can see you favoring your left leg” Yahaba points out. And okay, yeah, his left leg is bothering him, but can’t Yahaba keep out of his business now that they’re… less than friends again.

“Whatever” Kyoutani grunts as he takes the ball back from Yahaba. He bangs his shoulder hard into Yahaba as he walks past, making his way over to where Takashiro is waiting for him, but is stopped by the harsh tug on the front of his jersey that jerks him back around

He’s pretty sure everyone on the team has noticed the tension between he and Yahaba on the off the court. Their performance remains unaffected, despite how little they practice together now, but they snipe at each other constantly like they’re in highschool all over again. He’s not sure how he’d even start explaining all the shit between them, thank God none of his teammates come to him for an explanation. Kyoutani thinks that’ll likely change now that Yahaba’s gone and gotten all dramatic again.

“Your physical health affects this entire team,” Yahaba hisses, apparently unconcerned or unaware that he’s causing a scene --or that Kyoutani’s struggling not to let Yahaba man-handling go right to his dick. “I will  _ not _ have you jeopardize this team with your bullheaded arrogance. You are not invincible. Stop acting like it.”

“Only if you stop acting like you care about me,” Kyoutani snaps back, balls his hands into fists and refusing to break eye contact as he speaks. Yahaba stares him down for a few long seconds before pushing back and giving him that condescending look he’d picked up from Oikawa.

“Don’t make this about me. You should respect our team and senpais’ enough not to injure yourself out of sheer stupidity. Your body doesn't just belong to you, it belongs to the team. So stop being an idiot,” With that, Yahaba turns around and swans off.

Kyoutani stalks away to the locker room before he puts a hole through a wall or makes some nasty comment about how his body might belong to the team, but Yahabas’ belongs to anyone so long as they  _ weren’t _ the team. As much as it bothers him that Yahaba’s with other people, he has no right to feel that way. No right to judge Yahaba or his choices or to feel his gut twist with poorly repressed jealousy. 

There worst part is Yahaba’s right; and Kyoutani knows it. He’d been pushing himself for weeks now and his body’s protesting. But it was all Yahabas’ fault to begin with ---for getting under his skin, for stringing him along, for making it seem like maybe he did care that last night they’d spent together.

He bangs his head against his locker. He can’t think about that. He won’t think about it. He-

“Um, hey?” Forehead still pressed his locker, Kyoutani tilts his head enough to see Takashiro standing at the end of row of lockers. His kohai shifts back and forth on his feet, his uncertainty blaringly obvious. 

“You must’ve drawn the short straw” Kyoutani comments flatly, turning back to stare at the green locker. Takashiros’ laugh is awkward, but he dosen’t sound afraid.

“I think it’s because out of everyone you’re least likely to bite my head off. Unless I flub a set of course.”

“A good strategy,”  Kyoutani agrees. The locker gets boring, so he shifts around and slumps down to sit with his back to the wall and tilts his head back to stare at the water stained ceiling.

“Wanna talk about it?” Takashiro asks. He slides down to sit beside Kyoutani, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. 

“No”

“ _ Should  _ you talk about it?”

Kyoutani mulls that one over. “Probably,” He begrudgingly admits. “Yahaba’ll kill me if I do though.”

Takashiro laughs lightly and Kyoutani looks over, curious. “When I first met you two I thought you’d be the tough-as-nails one and Yahaba was the one at your mercy.” Takashiro explains, giving a crooked grin “But it’s totally the other way around though, huh?”

“He’s good at hiding that he’s actually bat-shit insane,” Kyoutani agrees “They call me mad dog, but it’s Yahaba that’s holding the leash.”

“Does it bother you that he, as you say, holds the leash?”

“Nah, it makes me a better player. Still can’t stand him though.”

“I’ve sorta always wondered how he manages it. Considering you guys get along like a house on fire. Even worse so recently.”

If any of his other teammates had asked him that question, he’d have ignored it. But he likes to think he knows Takashiro well enough that just a noncommittal grunt wouldn't be enough “He learned to manipulate for the best. Fucking Oikawa.” 

“Your old senpai? The olympian volleyball player?” Is the curious question. It’s annoying how everyone on the team gushes about his old senpai, but he guesses if you didn’t actually know  the guy he’d seem sorta cool. Only Kyoutani does know Oikawa, and he is a meddling, simpering drama queen who only worsened Yahaba’s tendencies towards the dramatic as well.

“The one and only.” Kyoutani confirms with some bitterness. 

“Huh.”

Kyoutani grunts and closes his eyes. They sit in silence for a while and it isn’t even awkward. He can practically hear the gears in Takashiro’s head turning away. Whatever his kohai’s thoughts might be, he keeps them to himself --much to Kyoutani’s relief. 

“The captain’s probably done questioning and-or ripping Yahaba-san a new one now. You wanna help me practice my serves?”

 

* * *

 

Only two days later, that Friday, the team goes out for after-practice dinner. It goes about as well as expected for Kyoutani. He eats by himself and the only person who’ll talk with him is Takashiro. They’re all making their way back to the train station when a guy calls Yahaba out of their group.

He’s tall and muscular, with strong features. Kyoutani sort of remembers him. He plays basketball, or maybe he was a swimmer? No, it’s soccer he thinks. What he does remember is this guy has been hawking on Yahaba for a while. 

Kyoutani turns away from the guy to see how Yahaba will react. He’s pursing his lips, hands on hips.

“Oh no…” Kyoutani murmurs. Takashiro gives him a questioning look, but he doesn't need to explain that Yahaba’s about to switch into prissy mode when he makes it obvious by speaking.

“What can I do for you Atori-san” Yahaba says, making his voice light and frivolous.

“Don’t give me that shit.” The guy half-yells, his words slurring slightly, pointing at Yahaba like he’s an affront to nature. Oh, Kyoutani see’s it now. Yahaba must have fucked and dumped him, and now he’s butt-hurt and about to make a very poor life choice. “You seriously think you can just drop me like that huh? You think you can do better than me? When everyone knows what a shallow slut you are, how you’ll sleep with any guy. That you’re a pillow princess,” He sneers as their captain and Yahabas’ fanboy are held back from starting a fight by half the team. “Jesus, I bet you’ve probably slept with half the guys on your team.” 

Nobody bothers to think that they’d have to stop Kyoutani too, let alone get in his way, which is how he finds himself a foot away from the guy. He looks surprised and a little uncertain but he turns his sneer on Kyoutani now.

“You want to repeat that?” Kyoutani asks.

“What” The guy asks stupidly, obviously expecting fists, not words. Kyoutani can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath.

“You said something about my teammate. Would you care to repeat that? Think carefully. Because I might not appreciate what you have to say.”

“Are you fucking with me?” the guy asks incredulously. Kyoutani doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare the guy down. He knows the effect his eyes have on most people. The guy starts to look edgy, like he’s regretting starting this.

“Kyouken leave poor Atori-san alone,” Yahaba teases as he comes up to stand just behind Kyoutani. He can feel the heat of Yahaba at his back as he watches the guys face start to move to panicked “I don’t think he has the spine to handle your bark, let alone your bite.”

Yahaba winks and Atori goes pale.

“Nothing to say then?” Kyoutani asks. Atori shakes his head slowly. “That’s what I though.”

“Bye-bye Atori-kun!” Yahaba calls as the guy makes a swift exit.

“Holy shit dude!” One of the guys says as soon as Atori’s out of sight and their on their way to the station again. All the guys break into different versions of the same statement. 

_ Wow Yahaba, you’re so cool, you sure told him, so amazing, wow! _

Kyoutani snorts and falls to the back of the group again. All that praise is only going to make Yahaba more big headed. 

He and half the team get off at the same stop and make their way to their separate places. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that Yahaba was behind him two blocks after he usually turned to get to his own place.

He turns to face Yahaba, “What?” He snaps. He’s tired, it’s been a long week. He just wants to sleep. Not trade verbal barbs with Yahaba.

“I  **was** going to thank you for sticking up for me, but if you’re going to be like that.” Yahaba sniffs imperiously.

“Cut the shit Yahaba. Why follow me to my place if you only wanted to thank me.”

Yahaba bites his lip, eyeing him and simultaneously making Kyoutani feel like a bug under a microscope.

“I wanted to… talk. Just the two of us”

“I have a headache” Kyoutani says crassly. Yahaba rolls his eyes.

“I actually meant talk you ass.”

“Fine” Kyoutani grumbles

They walk the last few blocks to Kyoutanis’ place. Kyoutani closes the front door behind them and leans against it, looking at Yahaba who’s standing in the entryway, shifting, probably trying to decide if he should take his shoes off, or if this is as far as he’s getting. 

“Talk. You’ve got five minutes.”

“Ever the gentleman,” Yahaba says waspishly. Then he sighs, makes a face, and admits “I didn’t mean that.” 

Kyoutani doesn't respond, just raises a brow and waits. Yahaba paces back and forth, or as much as he can in Kyoutani’s cramped entryway. Kyoutani briefly wonders if he should be worried. If Yahaba was planning to get him alone so he could like, pull a knife on him or--

His line of thought is completely derailed because Yahaba seizes his moment of distraction to press him against the door and kiss him, soft and hesitant. Yahaba pulls away too soon and looks at him hesitantly. Kyoutani has no idea what's going on or what parallel dimension he’s stepped into. Yahaba still has a death grip on his shirt sleeve.

“That’s not talking” he says stupidly, because what the fuck else is there to say? Yahaba snorts and starts to pull away, but he grabs Yahaba’s hips and keeps him in place. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“I’ve been thinking” He starts slowly, running a hand through his perfect hair. “It’s just… we’ve known each other for five years now. We played at nationals. Yeah, we fight alot but sometime yelling at you is the only way to get things through your thick head. But then there's the sex. It was supposed to be  _ just _ sex, and it was, and that was fine ‘cause it was  _ really good  _ sex. But then there was kissing and pizza and me not enjoying sex.”

“You’re rambling,” Kyoutani cuts in.

“Right, sorry. I meant not enjoying sex with other guys. Only with you. Then I realized I wanted more than just sex and volleyball with you. I don’t know why it took me so long. I should’ve figured it out when I kept sleeping with you for like, two years straight even after the no-teammates-rule,” Yahabas’ laughs is dry and devoid of humor. “Obviously I have commitment issues.”

“Yeah,” Kyoutani agrees. “So why are you telling me this?”

“It was all an accident, I felt out of control,” Yahaba swallows hard and admits. “I was scared.”

“And now?” he prompts. Yahaba glares at him, Kyoutani gives his hips a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

“Are you seriously gonna make me spell it out for you?”

“I'd kind of like to hear you say it,” Yahaba buries his face in Kyoutanis’ shirt and groans. “I’ve been pretty patient, I think I deserve a treat.”

“I’d like you to be my boyfriend, you complete and utter asshole.” Yahaba gripes into the fabric of his shirt. He can feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric, but that’s not the only reason his shivers slightly.

“You’re the one who likes this complete and utter asshole,” Kyoutani can’t keep himself from pointing out, just to hear himself say the words. To hear that Yahaba likes him. He’s grinning like an idiot so he presses his face into Yahaba’s hair. Yahaba looks up and him from his hiding in his shirt. God, is he pouting? That should be illegal

“Don’t act like you don’t want it too. I know how jealous you get, even if you try to hide it.”

“I don’t like sharing,” Kyoutani grumbles. “Sue me.” Yahaba pulls back and looks at him seriously.

“You sure you want to date me? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to introduce you to my parents as more than a friend. I wouldn’t blame you if that bothers you. And if you’re worried about how the team might react, I’d understand, if those are deterrents.”

“You think I’d put up with all your bullshit these past months if I didn’t want to be with you?”

“That’s fair,” Yahaba agrees, leaning in to kiss him gently. “Though, to be frank, you’ve been putting up with my shit for years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atori is the one who made Yahaba's neck look like an octopus tried to strangle him, just a little extra there ;)  
> I'll probably end up adding a third chapter to be honest, because I think some make-up sex is in order. But I need to get this out here first --at least before another 3 months pass or I decide I hate it and abandon it.   
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just smut with a little extra at the end.  
> Yoooo, sorry for the wait, I got a second job and well... You know how it goes.

“What happened to just talking?” Yahaba teases, pushing Kyoutani to sit on the bed. Because apparently neither of them have any self control now that they’ve cleared the air. They'd run into a couple walls on the way to the bedroom in their desperation to touch one another, reaffirm that this was actually happening.  
“Can you just shut up for once,” Kyoutani complains while shoving Yahaba’s shirt up. “Take that off.”  
“So bossy” Yahaba chides even as he obeys, shucking both his shirt and jacket off before straddling Kyoutani’s lap. God, Kyoutani missed this, having Yahaba looming over him with predatory intent. Yahaba gives him the little crooked smile and keeps teasing him. “That desperate to get your hands on me?”   
“Fuck you,” Kyoutani grumbles, letting his hands slide up Yahaba’s thighs and up to his waist, gripping tightly and pulling him till they’re flush chest to chest and all his weight is bearing down on Kyoutani, trying to get as much contact as possible.  
“Mmm, that's what I'm hoping for.” Yahaba has that goddamn self satisfied smirk on his face as he rolls his hips down against Kyouanti’s. “Though I think you deserve a little something special first. I think it was you who said I owe you a treat after all.”  
Kyoutani shivers, hips unitentally jerking up against Yahaba's. He fails to keep his voice steady when he asks, “What did you have in mind?”  
Leaning in close Yahaba laughs softly, loosely carding his hand through Kyoutani’s hair, lips pressing against his ear as he talks in a voice that drips desire right into Kyoutani’s veins. “Mmm, I was thinking about that time I called you. I mentioned something about letting you fuck my face.” Yahaba presses a kiss behind his ear. A pointed attempt at abusing Kyoutani’s weak spots, both physically and verbally. “You still up for that? Or have you got any ideas of your own.”  
“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut at the too much, too quick spike of arousal-- ramping up so quick it leaves Kyoutani feeling lightheaded  
The idea plays out in high definition in his head. Yahaba's pretty lips wrapped around him again, red and swollen. The heat of his wet mouth, the rasp in his voice in the aftermath, the way he seemed to enjoy choking on Kyouanti's cock--   
He tries to reign in his control. But another idea sneaks through the cloud of lust. Something he hadn’t dared imagine before.   
He pulls back slightly and looks up into Yahaba’s eyes. They hadn’t turned the lights on in their distraction, leaving the room in darkness, but he can see the slight part of Yahaba’s mouth, breath coming a bit heavier, the way his eyes are so focused on Kyoutani. The same focus he never abandons.   
So much of their intimacy had revolved around Kyoutani’s pleasure. He’d noticed it before, but Yahaba had also seemed to get off on the feeling of being used for another pleasure, was the one to direct everything, always in control, so he’d let it go. He hadn’t tried to change the rules of engagement. Didn’t want to risk Yahaba’s displeasure, didn’t want to lose what little intimacy he could pry out of their meetings. Now though--  
“I want to touch you,” Kyoutani tells him, hands wandering over the planes of Yahaba’s chest. Taking his time to enjoy the feel of skin on skin. Petting, admiring, appreciating --something sadly missing from their usual rough groping. He’s seen Yahaba shirtless countless times, but he’s never had the chance to just… look.   
“You already are,” Yahaba teases, his own hands tracing lightly over the nape of Kyoutani’s neck.  
“I wanna make you feel good,” Kyoutani insists as he cups Yahaba’s neck in one hand and face in the other, letting his thumb drag softly over his cheekbone. He can see Yahaba swallow hard as he leans into Kyoutani’s touch.  
“You always do.” Yahaba’s voice is breathier now and he’s biting his lip. “Don’t see how that’s a reward for you either.” For a beat Kyoutani hesitates.   
“Wanna make you feel so good you lose that damn control of yours,” Kyoutani admits softly.   
He feels Yahaba freeze under his fingers and the way his jaw muscles twitch but Kyoutani doesn’t stop the stroking of his check or look away from his face.   
“We can go back to option one,” Kyoutani says, offering an out. “Both are good in my book.”  
Yahaba swallows hard. “I- I don’t know. I mean.” Yahaba’s words came out haltingly, erratic. He shifts uncertainty in Kyoutani’s lap and licks his lips nervously. “We can try. I think- I just- I’m not sure. That I can. Let go of control I mean.”  
“Say the word and I’ll stop,” Kyoutani promises as he let his lips brush against Yahaba’s jawline. “Anything you don’t like or if you’re uncomfortable we stop.”  
There’s a pause, long enough that Kyoutani’s about to switch back to option one, but then Yahaba lets out a shaky breath and replies.   
“Okay.”   
“Okay?” Kyoutani looks up again, has to see the look on Yahaba’s face, needs to confirm. Yahaba nods and Kyoutani leans forward, kissing Yahaba slow and deliberate. Yahaba responds by wrapping his arms around his shoulders, trying to chase Kyoutani’s mouth when he pulls back.   
“Okay.” Kyoutani agrees and hooks his arm under Yahaba. Rolls them over and hauls Yahaba up the bed before hovering over him on his hands and knees. That earns him a wicked grin from Yahaba, who takes advantage of the switch to lightly skim his fingers up Kyoutani’s sides.  
“Have I ever mentioned how hot it is that you can just lift me up like that?” Yahaba asks.   
“Could probably bench press you,” Kyoutani boasts as he settles back to better take in the view below him.   
Long, lean body, but still with obvious muscle definition. He lets his hands roam again, before leaning down and following the path his fingers had taken with his lips. He’s so used to Yahaba setting the pace --telling him what he wanted, how to do it, and Kyoutani following instructions because he would have to be brain damaged to pass up on knowing exactly how to make Yahaba melt. But now, to have control, Kyoutani wasn’t completely sure what to do, how to make Yahaba just… let go. Yahaba was the planner, not him. But on the occasion Yahaba openly praised him, it was often to mention his good instincts.  
So that’s what he does, letting his natural impulse move him. He starts slow, dropping kisses against warm skin, stopping to suck or nip at places he knows are sensitive. Places he knows will make Yahaba squirm or suck in a sharp breath. Lazy kisses to dip of his collarbone, licking a circle around his navel, the drag of teeth lightly against the jut of his hip. Yahaba gaspes and shudders, a hand grabbing at his hair when he switches to sucking a deep bruising mark into the other hip.  
Yahaba’s breathing hard when Kyoutani finally raises his head from Yahaba’s chest, the hand that had been grasping at his hair sliding free. Dark pleasure blooms in Kyoutani’s at the sight Yahaba makes spread out on his bed. Pupils blown wide, the flush spread not only over his cheeks but down his chest, the distinct tent in his pants, and at the mark left on his lips from where he’d bitten them to keep quiet. God, Kyoutani would never get tired of just looking at Yahaba.  
“Shirt?” Yahaba asks and Kyoutani pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere aimless, before he gives into the urge to kiss Yahaba senseless again. Yahaba matches his eagerness. It’s a messy thing, too much tongue and teeth, and honestly it’s a terrible kiss, probably the worst they’ve ever shared. He doesn't care and it doesn’t seem to bother Yahaba either --who’s too distracted by grinding his hips up against Kyoutani and digging his nails into his back. Kyoutani forces himself to take a deep breath, recenter himself, and pull away from the kiss. To slow it down after going from zero to a hundred so fast. He wasn’t going to let Yahaba derail him. He steadies a hand on Yahaba’s hip, the one he’d marked, and pushed him down into the sheets when he tries to yank Kyoutani back against him.  
“Stay,” Kyoutani growls out, and wow, that came out way more domineering and harsh then he expected.   
He feels Yahaba full on shudder accompanied by a low groan from somewhere deep in his throat. “Tease,” Yahaba accuses breathlessly, relaxing back against the bed a rare moment of obedience. Holy shit, Kyoutani realizes Yahaba --bossy, imperious, power-bottom Yahaba-- got off on a touch of being dominated in bed. And boy, isn’t that some interesting information. He can work with that.   
“Pants off,” Kyoutani commands before disentangling himself from Yahaba to grab the lube and condoms stashed in the drawer. Getting back on the bed this time he doesn't straddle Yahaba’s lap, but nudges at Yahaba’s leg, who spread them in wordless understanding, enough for Kyoutani to be able to settle between them and get his hands on all the new skin available to him. Yahaba had left his briefs, and Kyoutani leans down to mouth at him through the material, already damp with a wet spot he gets them wetter still, before nipping at the juncture where Yahaba’s hip and thigh met. He wonders what Yahaba would do if he gave his thighs the same attention he’d lavished on his chest earlier. Kyoutani figures it’s fifty-fifty he’d either cum in his briefs or turn the tables on him and he’d end up suffering under a sadistic Yahaba.  
He decides not to risk it. Partly because Kyoutani’s starting to get a little desperate too. Instead he pulls Yahaba’s briefs off and out of the way. Hooking an arm under Yahab’s knee he gets him to raise a leg over his shoulder, enough room to give him access. He lets his lips brush against Yahaba’s knee as he slicks his fingers, letting the lube warm before rubbing a finger against Yahaba’s entrance.  
“Still want me to?” He murmurs, letting his mouth trail down to brush at the inside of Yahaba’s knee.   
“Just hurry up and fuck me already,” Yahaba snaps, pinning him with a squinty glare. Any bite the words might of had is lost in how wrecked Yahaba sounds, the way he squirms in anticipation of Kyoutani’s fingers. For all Yahaba’s love of roughness, of quick and dirty it’s a pleasing revelation to learn just how responsive, how sensitive Yahaba is to soft and slow. That gentleness and assertiveness and turing Yahaba’s intent focus back at him get such a different and yet similar outcome.  
Kyoutani hums noncommittally. “I’ll consider it.”  
By the time he works Yahaba open on first two, then three fingers Yahaba is rendered inarticulate and both his thighs are littered in marks. Kyoutani continues to drag it out, letting his fingers press insistently against Yahaba’s prostate, were before he’d only been brushing against with each thrust. Yahaba starts to babble, hands clenching the sheets in a death grip. He’s so close to the edge and Kyoutani hasn’t even touched his cock since getting his finger in him.  
“Oh, God. Kyou. That’s-- ‘M close, I--” Yahaba gasps out as he fucks himself back on Kyoutani’s fingers. It’s his favorite part, when Yahaba finally lets go and takes what he wants, chasing his own pleasure for once. “God, don’t stop. Need it--”  
The words break off in a jagged moan and he feels Yahaba’s body jerk, the clench of his hole around his fingers. Kyoutani sits back on his heels and watches with deep satisfaction as Yahaba cums. His head thrown back, mouth open and gasping soundlessly as Kyoutani milks him, only pulling his fingers out when Yahaba lets out a whine of oversensitivity.   
Kyoutani rubs his hands in absent, soothing motions against Yahaba’s thighs, watching as Yahaba’s brain restarts and he tries to drag himself back out of the hazy remnants of his afterglow. Yahaba never lets himself enjoy the lazy feeling of being satiated, always forcing himself back into control again as soon as possible.  
Maybe he can work towards changing that too.  
“Oh my God,” Yahaba whispers weakly, barely loud enough for Kyoutani to hear.  
“Okay?” Kyoutani asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.  
“Very okay,” Yahaba confirms and crooks a finger at him. “Now get up here and kiss me.”

\--

(extra)  
Kyoutani closes his locker to find Takashiro leaning against the row next to him. The kid has a small smile on his face and amusement in his dark, knowing eyes. Kyoutani’s not real sure he’s ready for this particular conversation. Then again, if he has to start somewhere Takashiro would be his first choice.  
He resigns himself to his fate and takes the bait. “What.”  
“You and Yahaba-san seem to be getting along again.” Takashiro comments casually. Kyoutani gives a noncommittal grunt, but his Kohai is undeterred and continues. “Or, getting along like normal I should say. Back to your usual storm instead of the recent typhoon.”  
“First you call us a house on fire, now a typhoon.” He turns to actually give Takashiro the full brunt of his prickly attention. “You writing a poem about it or something, a haiku to your senpai’s.”  
“That’s not a bad idea,” Takashiro says thoughtfully and cocks his head to the side. “I am a lit major after all.” Kyoutani scowls back at him, but nowadays Takashiro’s just as immune to his face as Yahaba or Watari. Dammit.   
“A sonnet for the ages,” Takashiro adds, because unfortunately he’s not done torturing him. “Maybe an epic love poem.”   
The kid might as well have tasered him, it would’ve had the same effect. Kyoutani looks around quickly, and thankfully the locker room is empty. “Love poem, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he hisses. He has to squash the desire to put the kid in a headlock. Takashiro just tilts his head and smiles amiably. Double dammit.  
“Mmhm. Speaking of which, Yahaba-san should consider switching from econ to lit. He gets very flowery with the descriptions when he’s drunk. It’s quite moving. He’d just have to drink and write about all his feelings. It’d be a hit with teen girls.”   
Oh God, whatever Yahaba had told Takashiro during that drunken night at the party condemned them both. Triples dammit.  
Kyoutani buries his face in his hands and groans. “Christ, I’m dating an idiot,” he mumbles into his palms. He hears Takashiro struggle to keep from laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this I've learned I'm really bad at writing full-on, detailed, sex instead of just the small snippets I'm used to. Or maybe not bad, but it's just really frigg'n difficult for me. I was going to add more but it just didn't end up happening. Maybe I'll improve and writing real sex won't be such an ordeal.   
> -shrug-  
> Anyways, thanks for sticking with me! Hope you enjoyed it all and that we all get more Kyoutani and Yahaba interactions sometime soon!


End file.
